


Risk and Reward

by DrWhom1963



Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: Dating, F/M, but they're canon now because i said so, characters getting the soft shit they deserve, dan curtis is quaking from this power couple hence why they weren't canon, elizabeth stoddard having NOT SHIT TASTE IN MEN FOR ONCE, piano playing leads to dancing leads to cute shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrWhom1963/pseuds/DrWhom1963
Summary: Or How One Professor Got the Nerve to Ask One Matriarch Out On a Date.
Relationships: Elizabeth Collins Stoddard/Timothy Eliot Stokes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Risk and Reward

**Author's Note:**

> Stokes/Liz is pure, sweet, and frankly what both Liz and Stokes deserve! And damnit I will be the fic I wish to see in the world.

She’s playing Chopin, at his request, and he’s in love.

A rather extreme thought, but it was utterly true. How was it that she was the one to sweep him off his feet, perhaps without even meaning to? Stokes wasn’t sure and he could spend a lifetime trying to figure it out. But what he was certain of in this moment, was that he adored her so. And that everything she did made him adore her all the more. As she sat at her piano, a nocturne drifting from her fingertips, he was utterly captivated. 

She was a delicate musician. Her touches were light on the keys; not putting too much pressure to turn the song into something bombastic. Gentle, almost thoughtful, yet present and powerful in their own right. Much like her. He’s nearby her, on the sofa in the drawing room, his own fingers tapping on his knee to match the tempo of the song. Lost in the music and lost in her all at once. Usually when appreciating a musical piece, Stokes would close his eyes to get a true feeling for it. But when the musician was Elizabeth Stoddard, _well_ , it would be a sin to look away. 

She stops. The song over, and she looks over the instrument with a smile. “Any other requests?”

He finds himself smiling back, shaking his head. “Musicians choice.” 

She thinks for a moment. “Well I can’t play it myself, but I’m sure we have the record for it.” Liz moves away from the piano, to the record player’s home in the corner of the room. Two boxes fit to bursting with vinyl were beside it; no doubt thanks to Carolyn’s wide array of musical tastes. She searches through the extensive collection before finding whatever it was she was looking for. 

“Do you like Sinatra, Eliot?” she asks, holding the record gently in her hands. 

His face lights up. “Indeed I do. Ol’ Blue Eyes is a favorite of mine.” 

Elizabeth smiles back; and what a rare and wonderful thing it was, her smile. “He’s mine too. I have too many favorite songs to count really.”

“Well Liz, whichever you choose I can almost guarantee I’ll enjoy it.” Her name felt lovely on his tongue. Elizabeth. Dear lovely Liz. Goodness, he was giddy over her name. It was almost foolish. Something a blushing school-boy would do over his first crush. Surely he was far beyond that now, at his age. And yet, here he was. 

She sets up the player, carefully places the needle on the anticipating record and the speaker crackles with life. He recognizes the tune instantly. ‘ _The Way You Look Tonight_.’ A fitting choice, and how delightful it was it was her favorite. 

Liz turns, her hands clasped together in front of her, humming so softly that Stokes almost can’t hear her. He stands, slowly, walks until he is not a few feet away from the Collins matriarch. He clears his throat, one hand on his monocle (damn his nervous habit) and the other outstretched casually to her. “...May I ask you to dance, Liz? If you don’t mind me being too forward.”

“Not at all, Elliot,” That smile again, oh how he wanted her to smile like that forever. 

She places her hand in his, and crosses the short distance between them, her other hand comes to rest on his chest. He tentatively places his hand on her hip, drawing her close, their eyes lock, and he’s smiling just as brightly as her. 

It was a simple dance, just a few spins and steps in a small circle avoiding the bric-a-brac and antique clutter in the drawing room. But it was like dancing on air. Neither of them had stopped smiling. Well, really he hopes she hasn’t. Her hand had reached up to his shoulder, and her head rested against him with a content sigh. Her face was mostly hidden from him now, but he counts that as a blessing in disguise; she can’t see how bright pink his own face has become. Almost automatically,he moves his hand so it now resided on the small of her back. 

It feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

“You’re a lovely dancer Eliot..” Elizabeth declares, almost in a whisper.

He laughs. “I’m glad you think so. Though I admit I’m much better at a proper waltz.”

“Oh? Well, I’d like to see that one day,”

Perhaps she meant it as a common courtesy. Perhaps he’s reading far too much into it than he should. Perhaps he needed to get his head out of the proverbial clouds and come back down to Earth where ladies like Elizabeth Collins-Stoddard don’t associate romantically with men like Professor T. Elliot Stokes. 

Perhaps. 

He ought to take a risk. 

“Elizabeth?” he dares, willing desperately for his voice not to crack or for him to stutter. 

“Yes?” she replies. The song was coming to an end, the final refrain, but their gentle sways together continued .

“I’d like to take you out to dinner. And dancing,” His voice didn’t tremble thank god.

She looks up at him then. “That sounds lovely! Of course I would.” She was casual as you please. They’d done that before. A dinner here, a spot of lunch in town, he’d invite her to the university to see so-and-so’s exhibit on display or ask her opinion of a new art piece in his collection.

Stokes halts their dance, Sinatra’s warbles also fading away. “I meant--I--You’re dear to me Liz. And I care for you deeply. More than a friend ought to. And I would very much like it to be a date. A proper one. Not between just friends.”

There it was. The greatest risk taken. And surely a rejection was coming. It was too soon. Considering what happened between Her and Paul all those years ago and that McGuire fellow and everything else that’s happened recently. Surely she’d sweetly turn him down and they’d forget about it and move on with their friendship and he would still be grateful and happy with that and--

“Why, Eliot, I’d love to.”

 ** _Oh_**.

Her eyes were lit up, her cheeks a soft rosy color, and she’s said she’d love to. 

He can’t stop the wide, joyous grin from growing on his face. He can’t stop himself from holding her just that bit closer. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

“This Friday, perhaps? At 6?” she suggests, neither caring they still haven’t let go of each other. Even though the song had long since changed to ‘ _Three Coins in the Fountain_ ’

“It’s a date.”


End file.
